On Loan Part X
Can you believe it’s already number 10? Read what happens next in the tenth installment of On Loan, written by moonmagiclady.
The tiny bikini was hardly enough to make me “presentable” in any fashion, and I wondered where we were heading to go shop. I knew better than to ask though, the fact that my Dom had allowed the Host of the previous nights party to come pick me up was enough for me to know that, for the moment, I was under his command.
We left downtown Waikiki and headed toward the outskirts, more to the Honolulu area, and at least one of my questions was answered when we parked outside a small strip club with an adult toy store right beside it. My host opened the door of the car for me, and we entered the store just in front of four young military boys, not a one of them a day older than 21… and that was being generous (a common site in Honolulu on the weekend!) Needless to say they approved of the view of me in my bikini and wrap quite vocally.
My Host picked out several items for me including a tight black latex corset, snug black leather restraints to snap on ankle and wrist, and a micro mini style pleated black latex skirt. In reality, the outfit wouldn’t cover much more than the bikini I was already wearing, but it was a much more sexual and submissive look than the bikini. As I took the items to the dressing room, I passed the military boys and couldn’t help overhearing their lewd comments about both my bikini and the sex toys they were browsing.
I rolled my eyes in amusement and kept going… boys will be boys… In the meantime, my host was chatting up the proprietress of the store, who had already mentioned she was a professional dominatrix herself with a smile on her face and a hungry look in her eye as she looked me up and down. I entered the dressing room and managed to get most of the items on myself, but as is always the case with a true corset, I would need help lacing it. I leaned out the door to request aid, and the owner of the store came over.
With an amused smile on her face, she informed me there was not enough space in the dressing room to tie it like it should be done, and instructed me out into the store. She then had me kneel on the floor an (the military boys now more interested than ever) tugged mercilessly on the laces to make sure I was as tightly laced in as possible. The feel of the corset tightening around me was arousing in itself, and I became slightly lightheaded until I remembered how to breathe in one. Corsets have the effect on me of feeling as if my very breath is under the control of another. This particular corset not only emphasized my tight waist, but the generous swell of my hips and curve of my ass as well. The front pressed my breasts tight and together, the half cups leaving my nipples exposed.
My host looks over at me, already flushed and aroused even though I wish I wasn’t, and laughs at my pouting scowl. The intention to fuck me very soon in this outfit clear in his eyes, my host tells the owner that we will take everything he has picked out, but that he wants me to wear it out of the store.
I am not happy with being put on display for the military kids, or for the store owner and at this point I’m getting a little pissed at my host. As far as the boys go, I’m condescendingly sure they wouldn’t know what they were doing with half the equipment in the shop even WITH the written manuals. They are nice eye candy though, Marine Corps being my guess. As he begins to turn away to go pay for the items, I become more sullen and pouty at the idea of having to wear this outfit in public. At the same time, I notice the four guys still staring at me, now with obvious lust and hunger in their eyes, so I slide the skirt up a little bit on my thighs to tease them a little. My host has turned back around in time to see both my look and the action, and in a flash he is across the store, hand fisted in my hair, pulling me backwards to arch my back and look up at him. In a snarl, he asks me if there is a problem with his commands. Before I can answer, one of the young marines steps forward and points out that is not how one treats a lady. My host laughs out loud instead of getting angry and releases my hair then turns to talk to the boy.
He explains to the boy that I am not a lady, but nothing more than a slave slut and offers to have me prove it. I look at him appalled. Let me just explain here that I have nothing against military guys (as a matter of fact, it’s a bonus a lot of time), but I didn’t date or fuck guys in their early twenties when I that young, and since then I’ve been had… and trained by skillful and demanding tops… no way in hell any of these kids would know what to do with me. Hell, all four at once wouldn’t know what to do with me.
The young men discuss it for a moment then turn to ask him how he intends to have me prove it. Leaving me kneeling on the floor, hair disheveled and red with embarrassment combined with irritation, my host turns and talks quietly for a moment with the owner of the shop. I see her smile and then she goes to lock the front door and turn the sign to read “Closed.”
I’m beyond angry at this point, but wait obediently to see what happens next. My host orders me to crawl and follow the woman over to the restraint area of the store, where she unhooks one of the displays on an Andrew’s cross, and orders me to stand. Her touch sure and swift, the restraints are locked to the cross, and I am bound spread eagle, able to squirm, but unable to squirm away. Her hands slide over the corset, caressing the curves of my body with a promise of pain that could possibly come, or pleasure that would surely arrive.
My host comes and stands in front of me so he can see my face, then slides a wide posture collar around my neck which locks with a loud click. I am shivering and shaking, both in anticipation and anger, hungry for the lovely dominatrix who has stepped back and for the host himself. I can tell she is not only strict and demanding, but a woman has special ways and that extra bit of knowledge to make her even more able to torment a female slave. She also walks around to be able to see my face, and then slides her arm around my host’s waist before kissing him.
I hang on the cross, wondering what is going on, when she pulls a soft flogger off the wall and walks back over to the first of the young marines. She asks him if he knows how to use it, and he nods his head but requests for her to demonstrate just to make sure. Before I can process a thought, I hear the straps whistling through the air and hear the crack of them across my skin. The searing pain hits me a second later, and I inhale sharply with a muffled whimper. She hands the flogger back to the young man and suggests he find out exactly what a slut like me is made of. My whole body stiffens in resistance at being given away so casually for an evening’s amusement, I am furious, but refuse to use my safe word and have it reported back to my Dom that I was disappointing.
My host steps in long enough to warn the young man that he is not to break my skin, and to turn to me and order me to beg. It’s just one thing too much, and I shake my head in silent refusal. My host raises his eyebrows at me, then turns to the man and suggests that he begin by making sure that I beg.
The young man grins in reply and says he “KNOWS what little girls are made of”, and continues with the old rhyme about “sugar and spice and everything nice” and I laugh out loud at his naivety. I don’t beg for little boys, and it sure wasn’t about to start here.
Sugar and spice and everything nice? Hardly… this was going to be easy. He doesn’t say anything at my laughter, but the flogger begins to fall harder and fast over my skin. At first I grit my teeth and refuse to make a sound, fighting every lash across my skin. I am so furious that I have been handed over to these kids without a thought and I am determined to hold onto the anger and fight rather than submit.
The lash stops falling and I have a moment to think disdainfully that the boy has no clue what he is doing if he can’t even tell what is going on when I feel his hands slide under my skirt and gently rub against my clit. Now, he might have been lacking in experience in the BDSM department, but he certainly had no problem finding my punani and teasing my clit until it is hard and swollen until I whimper into the air, just a slut aroused by a casual touch. It dawns on me that although young, barely old enough to get in a bar, these guys have already been stationed in active combat and probably are not quite as innocent as I originally thought.
I begin to squirm on the cross, blood rushing through my skin at my inevitable arousal from the gentle and consistent rub across my clit, and the young man steps back to begin to swing the flogger again. At the same time, the dominatrix has handed another one of the men a second flogger and he moves to my other side. In moments the two have established a steady rhythm that ensures no matter which way I squirm or wiggle, bare skin will be tormented by the landing of the lash. Apparently military training comes in handy to counter BDSM inexperience. Go figure.
I’m whimpering, but still clenching my teeth together, refusing to give any more than that. The second young man steps closer to me and sliding his hand into my hair, unexpectedly gently, but tightening slowly into a tight painful grip asks me if I’m ready to say “what pretty little slut girls are made of”. Glaring, I shake my head the tiny bit possible against his grip, absolutely no way are these brats getting that out of me. I was sure they would puss out way before I did, a surety that shook a little bit as the boy grinned at me, released his grip on my hair and turned to hand his flogger over to yet a third guy. Well, almost sure.
I close my eyes and breathe deep as the straps begin to land against my skin, which has just had enough time to cool from tender to sore, which is ever so much MORE pleasant to be beat on. I open and raise my eyes to see the shop owner showing the guy who had just finished lashing me and the fourth guy a riding crop and a cane. My legs trembled now against the straps holding them wide apart and I give a bitten back yelp as the straps of both of the floggers, one after another, slap against my swollen and (to my embarrassment) wet pussy lips. I see the fourth guy pick up the cane, but the other one shakes his head and turns to ask my host who had brought me here a question. A grin on his face, he shrugs and nods to the boy.
My host turns and asks the dominatrix for a few more items, and then tells the two young men who are whipping me to stop for a moment. He holds up a wide anal plug for me to see, and then a set of clamps with a chain connecting them. I shake my head without even thinking about it. No way…. He asks me if I want to use my safe word, but I stubbornly shake my head and again he just smiles easily at me.
He quickly oils first his fingers, then showing me small tenderness, slides one, two into my tight ass. I’m so embarrassed now, to be getting my ass abused in front of these guys, then I hear one of them say, “just like that bar in…” and now I’m even more embarrassed. Great, being compared to some crack slut in some back water country.. wonderful.
My host points out that I’m actually even more of a slut, because I don’t have the excuse of drugs. I glare at him again, and he smiles in amusement before sliding a thick leather blindfold lined with something soft and comfortable over my eyes. Glaring is not going to get me out of anything about to happen. The softness of the blindfold is an almost maddening contrast to the rough wood of the cross.
I shiver now, unable to see what is coming. For a moment there is only the soft sound of people talking, but then I feel a familiar grip in my hair. Pulling my head back again, arching my back as much as my bonds allow, I am asked again what little slut girls are made of, and again I shake my head refusing to reply. The hand leaves my hair and I hear him step around behind me. There is a snapping noise and then an intense pain I recognize as the smack of a simple belt against my ass.
Now, there are a lot of fun games one can play with, and a lot of fun toys one can use, but a simple belt can be quite versatile as well. It wasn’t long before I was squirming in my bonds again, feeling every lash, every snap cut across my skin with heat that made me drip wetness down my thighs. A few more strokes, and just before a tear tumbles from my eye, the belt stops.
I hear sounds as he moves in front of me before sliding his hand between my breasts and the cross. He snaps the tight clips on first one nipple and then the other, then places a weight between them to make sure they tug hard on my breasts. The clips are tight and my breasts pressed up against the cross only make the torment sweeter. I can never get enough of my nipples being stimulated, in almost any form whatsoever and now my pussy was dripping even more.
The grip tightens into my hair again, almost a familiar caress now, but this time the belt is pressed up against my lips and I am ordered to kiss it. My ass sore, my stubbornness beginning to fade a little, I do so immediately, licking it and nibbling on the edge as told. The belt is taken away, and surprisingly soft lips move in to kiss mine, then to nibble lightly over my bottom lip. I’m no longer pouting, or rebellious, I’ve got a slight languor where I’ve fought it out against the lash.
I am asked again, “What are little slut girls made of?”
In a soft purr I reply, “Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice.” As the last word comes out of my mouth, teeth bite hard into my neck and I shiver and moan as an unexpected orgasm hits me. The teeth and lips move up my neck, and then the boy whispers in my ear that he is not yet convinced of my sincerity, or that I have truly submitted. Besides, only three of them had already had a turn, there remained the fourth.
My eyes widen in slight shock beneath the blindfold, and my whole body quivers as the first blow of the cane the fourth boy had looked at lands hard across my ass. The stinging pain crawls bone deep and my head spins as I hear the question voiced again. I rush and stumble in my reply, and the cane swipes into the top of my thighs. By the time we are finished, there are ten brilliant red stripes across my ass and in tears I have convinced all present that I am aware of what “little slut girls are made of.”
My ass on fire, my nipples aching hard, I am released from the cross and ordered over the padded bench now, ass arched, ankles and wrists again secured. With the blindfold still on I wonder what is to come next. I feel the first of the young men press his hard cock against my pussy and understand immediately that they plan to take what they have earned.
I am so wet, it takes only a moment for him to push up inside me and pound hard into my cervix. I am so aroused, and his slamming hard against my sore and tender ass combined with being DP’d with the plug still in me sends me over the edge and I cum hard screaming into the hand he has placed over my mouth. He pounds into me over and over, telling me what a good whore, what a lovely slut I am, then pulls out to fill the small of my back with his cum.
His friends remind him that he is not the only one here, and in moments, the cum is being fed to me. At his command, I lick it off his fingers and lap eagerly at every drop. The next young man pushes into me, thicker than the first boy, but not going quite so deep. He takes his time, slow strokes that leave me straining to grind back against him, until I am rubbing my own abused ass so hard against him, that I cum again from the pounding mixed sensations pouring endorphins into my body.
By the time all four men are finished I am exhausted, sore and completely satiated. At the orders of the man who had used the belt, I crawl to each of the men to clean my juices off of their cocks, and then kneeling between them, again am made to recite “sugar and spice and everything nice.” Blushing bright red, thoroughly fucked and disciplined, I do as I am ordered and then remain kneeling while my host, the shop owner and the boys walk up front.
The outfit I have been bought is totally ruined, but my host soon returns with another one. It’s a long black dress, rather elegant looking. I look at him in confusion and he tells me to go change and clean up, that we are joining my Dom, going out to dinner, and that the shop owner will be joining us. I ask if I am to remove the plug and giving me the same Zenful smile he’s given me through this night already, he tells me to leave it in for now. I give an inner sigh and wonder if anything I do is enough to make an impression on my host.
I moan slightly, not used to the slight difference in shape and size between this one and some of the toys I play with at home, but turn to go change, hand absently rubbing against my ass. Unexpectedly, our host pulls me harshly back to him for a moment, pins my hands behind my back, and viciously kisses my bruised lips. “You were magnificent.” He tells me, smile gone now and the predatory look back and his hand moves down to brutally pinch the heated flesh of my ass. I blush deep red which amuses him deeply, and am released to go and change.
